Here's To Whatever
by Lysimachus
Summary: Tamaki finds himself unable to grasp exactly why. Oneshot


Disclaimer: I don't own ;[ unfortunately. Haha

(A/N): The lyrics are italicized and are from MGMT's "Time to Pretend." Good song. Listen to it. This is if Tamaki had jumped off that bridge or if Haruhi never even showed up on time.

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Haruhi or anything. The idea of Éclair and Tamaki just seems much more appealing to me.

Reviews are wonderful. If you find mistakes, or something that doesn't make sense, or the have the strong urge to flame, be my guest ^_^

Now, without further ado…

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_This is our decision to live fast and die young.  
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun…  
_

_Yeah it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?  
Forget about our mothers and our friends…  
_

_We were fated to pretend.  
_

x

x

x

x

_**Here's To Whatever**_

_--_

_  
_He feels her arms around his neck, his eyes not all the way open as he plays the piano. He can feel the dampness of her hair. The honey colored strands smell like flowers.

The phone's ringing, and she snatches it away before he can look at it. He can only guess who is calling.

She drops it into the tank of fishes. And that's the end of it. No arguing.

--

Red corvette, racing down the bridge, wind whipping hair and piercing faces, two lost kids in the backseat.

He'll say, "I have a question. Are you sure about this? Would you even be happy married to me, or are you…just following orders?"

Opera glasses are pressed against her eyes. She smiles, but it's not of elation. It's of humor, of amusement at his naivety.

"There's no helping it. Don't you see? We play along as pawns. We _have _no say."

He doesn't understand.

She doesn't explain.

Instead, the car drives onward, and he's left to ponder her reasoning.

--

All he thinks about are his school, his friends, his club…

He'll miss them, no doubt. But this is what he chose. And he must live with it.

He tries to think of other things to fill his head of this void. He looks out the window and wonders how long it'll be until this plane lands.

The girl beside him, as fiercely brutal as she was beautiful, had fallen asleep.

--

Paris, France.

He meets all the relatives, the nobility, the important names and suits.

Goes to all the palaces, estates, ballrooms and dinner parties.

And when they're shaking hands with another pompous rich man that they are expected to respect, he sees the disdain in Éclair's eyes, the smiles and compliments that don't reach sincerity among these people—something that he can safely say he shares with her.

--

If they can agree that this life was utterly ridiculous, then their marriage will work.

If they both play along.

Feign interest, pretend they don't mind having their lives controlled.

Then this will work. If they are both on the same level, they will not be so miserable.

--

She's as much of a tool as he is. Another young, wealthy blood, a deal between adults that they had no right to pass judgment on. In this court, their testimonies are meaningless, their appearance strictly for show.

She's just learned to play along better than he has. To accept it.

She's a far better actress, wearing an icier mask. But it affects her all the same.

There's no denying that she liked not having to deal much with the people around her. That was all for everyone else to decide. Though she was lonesome, it was better than being around insufferable people. (She's knows she's quite the insufferable person herself, and doesn't care).

They were born into this trap.

--

"I think I see now, my lady," he says.

He's at the stone perimeter of the fountain, big enough and deep enough to be a pool—which is currently, to its swimmer, its purpose. At another Tonnerre estate.

While he's wearing his swimming trunks, he's hardly in the water, only knee deep while he sits down. Éclair went somewhat submerged underwater, only keeping the top of her head and some of her hair dry, before swimming back closer past the surface.

Flipping her hair back with her hands, tiny droplets stream down allover. Drifts over to where he's seated, everything from her chest down still underwater as she folds her arms on the stone, resting her head on her arms and peers up at him with her sharp blue eyes.

Her hair's a little darker from all the sun and wetness.

"See what?"

"What we are. To _them_."

She smirks. "I knew you would." She gets out of the fountain, and sits beside him, grabs her towel to dry herself.

"So what are we then, dear Tamaki?" laughing, the girl is, though it's not funny to either of them. "We can't go against the world. This is how it is."

"No…we can't…"

Her arms are leaning at their sides, her hands on the edge of the fountain, holding her up. The towel falls to her waist, she's mostly dry, and the sun helps with the rest. They both lose their gazes to thought. "So what do we do?" she asks, like how a teacher would ask a young student what comes next, even though the teacher knows the answer.

His hand rests over hers. "Get on. Live and let live."

"That's right."

--

It's the night before the wedding.

He's been in France for two years.

In Éclair's room, she's by herself, staring at the ceiling while she lies awake on her bed. Staring. Scared. Nervous.

Yet so _sure_.

The door creaked open, letting light from the hallway spill in the room.

"Come in," she says, even though he's already by the bedside.

He lies down next to her, no space between their shoulders, no space between the back of their hands, which are both still and quivering.

"We're in for quite a show tomorrow." She says it so low, as if she was in fear of someone hearing, although she very well knows the only person who would hear was him.

He laughs. "Might as well enjoy it."

Their fingers are barely intertwining.

They tear their gaze away from the ceiling and face each other.

_I'm certain._

_I'm certain._

_We want to run away._

_Oh well._

It's getting close to midnight.

"I should be off to my own room now. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding." He plants a kiss on her forehead then departs.

Her hand rose to eye level so she can see it, the diamond and gold snaking around her left ring finger. This ostentatious piece of jewelry is amusing.

Laughing, she rolls her to side, eye lids fluttering closed.

So, this was adulthood. So this was what it felt like to have it all.

It's not all it's cracked up to be.

But they can manage.

x

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x

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_  
But there is really nothing, nothing we can do.  
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew._

…_and that will be the end._

_  
We were fated to pretend._


End file.
